


August 1983

by eluna



Series: Subvert All The Tropes [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Domestic Winchesters, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s05e16 Dark Side of the Moon, Gen, Good Parent John Winchester, Hunter Mary Winchester, Hurt John Winchester, Hurt Mary Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Miscommunication, POV Mary Winchester, Pre-Series, Trope Subversion, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eluna/pseuds/eluna
Summary: Two days ago, she wrapped up what should have been a simple thing, a haunting in nearby Kansas City—but there turned out to be two ghosts, both of children who’d died horribly at their mother’s hand, and the ghosts who’ve endured that kind of trauma are always the most vicious. It was Mary’s first hunt since giving birth to Sam three months ago, too, and her body is still sloppy and lethargic with the aftereffects of pregnancy. She managed to avoid incurring any serious injuries, or anything on her face that a little foundation and concealer can’t hide, but John had sighted the thin double gashes on her stomach when he’d tried to join her in the shower last night, and—well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like fandom disproportionately portrays John as an irredeemably abusive father who didn't love his family at _all_ , possibly including before Mary died, which to me doesn't seem realistic even a little bit? Abusive due to child neglect and misguided decision-making as provoked by PTSD _after_ Mary's death, definitely, but totally uncaring and violent for the sake of it, no.
> 
> Part four in a loose series of otherwise-unconnected, trope-subverting stories. Mary's and Dean's dialogue are pulled from Dean's memory of this scene in episode 5.16 "Dark Side of the Moon." Spoilers for 12.06 "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox," in that we learned in that episode that Mary continued hunting sporadically even after she married John and supposedly retired.

“We’re not having this conversation again,” Mary says flatly.

Casting a hasty glance to where Dean’s watching her with wide eyes at the kitchen table, Mary smiles faintly at her elder son and clutches her waist a little tighter. Two days ago, she wrapped up what should have been a simple thing, a haunting in nearby Kansas City—but there turned out to be _two_ ghosts, both of children who’d died horribly at their mother’s hand, and the ghosts who’ve endured that kind of trauma are always the most vicious. It was Mary’s first hunt since giving birth to Sam three months ago, too, and her body is still sloppy and lethargic with the aftereffects of pregnancy. She managed to avoid incurring any serious injuries, or anything on her face that a little foundation and concealer can’t hide, but John had sighted the thin double gashes on her stomach when he’d tried to join her in the shower last night, and—well.

Her hand soothes over the place where her sundress conceals the cuts as John’s low, defeated voice comes through the tinny receiver. “Not talking about it doesn’t change anything. I need some time to think, Mare.”

“Time to think? About _what_? You have two boys at home!”

She’s not being fair: she knows it, and John knows it, too, judging by his answer. “That never stops _you_ from disappearing for days at a time to get—cut up by god knows what, or… You say you’re meeting old family friends, or—or going on business trips, but Mare… I _want_ to respect your—privacy, your decisions—”

“Fine. Then don’t.” Mary pauses, waiting for John to jump in with some accusation or other, but he doesn’t, and it rips her apart to wonder whether John is blaming himself or has simply deemed Mary irredeemably unreasonable. “There’s nothing more to talk about,” she adds, _waiting_ , but John just sighs without speaking, and Mary snaps the phone back into its cradle with entirely more venom than is owed.

For a few moments, she just stands there shuddering in the August heat, angry with John, with herself, with her whole family lineage for molding her so that she can’t feel… like she’s _worth_ anything in the weeks that drag on in between the hunts she hates, even knowing she’s got a husband and two children depending on her—even hunched over herself in a sunny suburban kitchen while her sweet, tiny son, hardly bigger than a toddler, pushes away from his seat at the table and comes around to tentatively circle his arms around her legs. “It’s okay, Mom,” Dean says, and she holds him tight, sniffing. “Dad still loves you. I love you, too. I’ll never leave you.”

It wrenches open something ugly and weak inside of Mary to see her perfect little boy scrambling to fix Mary’s own mistake. As she reaches down to cup his cheeks in her hands, for a second, all Mary can see is the face of the younger ghost she’d burned yesterday—only a little older than Dean when he’d died, and twisted into something so wrecked and bloodthirsty—and she musters up the strongest smile she can, which isn’t very strong, for her son. “You are my little angel,” she promises him, and he blushes and smiles back, trusting and innocent.

When John comes back three nights later, he peels up her nightgown unsteadily, frowns at the patchwork of scars there, and then fishes in the nightstand for the military med kit he’s never quite been able to get rid of. Mary draws a shallow breath and splays her knees apart, but John methodically cleans and bandages her most recent half-healed wounds with the single-minded focus that he's gotten sometimes since returning home from the Marines, his face frighteningly blank. “I came back for our boys,” he tells her tonelessly, and she accepts it because she must.


End file.
